Unsimple book 1
by Star7
Summary: The story of an angel, carried on demons wings... **yaoi** -senru-
1. Those who live hidden in shadow

Unsimple – book 1  
  
Prologue  
  
It was well know that the angels walked among the mortals. Creatures of God, but not, as was commonly believed, creatures of God's bidding. There were some, of course, that were faithful solely to God, but most merely feared him. God called some to his side and gave them special roles, but these mission and jobs were unbroardcast and kept silent.  
  
The angels didn't usually mix with the mortals, a feeling of inferiority existed towards them, although this is was not entirely justified. The angels looked down their noses at the flightless men of earth and chose not to indulge in their society. There was only one rule regarding the relationships between the two beings; there could be no loving or sexual relationship across the species, and the punishments for angels were severe. The mortals, however, had no head of being, and were not subject to the rule nor the punishments. The rules were never flaunted, angels had too much fear of God to break them, and besides, only the lowest angel would ever seek pleasure with a human.  
  
It was also well known that beside the mortals and the angels walked the demons. Creatures of evil and messengers of Satan. They were responsible for the murders of thousands of mortals and were dearly hated by them. The demon's true enemies were the angels, but they possessed neither the skill nor cunning to kill many. The demons wings were leathery and bat like, giving them more weight, but far less manoeuvrability than the light, feathered, speedy wings of the angels. And thus, the heavenly beings were well able to make their escape.  
  
Sendoh Akira was a mortal. But not your average mortal. He was a slayer.  
  
Slayers were very rare, both in the angel population and the mortal. They possessed an ability to 'see' a demon, because of course, the angels and demons did not go round mortal settlements looking like their true selves. Their huge wings, through a special, mysterious magic, would fold easily into their backs and out of sight. Few could recognise them for what they really were, which served only to make the demons even more dangerous.  
  
Sendoh Akira was a slayer who killed for revenge. He'd been brought up to believe solely in one thing; he hated demons.  
  
He could still vaguely remember the night they came. He hadn't been there, nor had his parents. Only one person had been in the house when they had flown in, goodness knows what they were looking for. That person had been his sister, 5 years old.  
  
Afterwards, they had never even found the body.  
  
With the memories of his sister, Sendoh lived his life to kill those that had brought death to his family.  
  
He was a good fighter. Years of fighting demons had made his movements fast, his mind able, and his sword had had it's fill of blood. But the demons were better fighters still, and every day he would put his life on the line when he met one.  
  
And if he met a group, he was in trouble...  
  
5.  
  
5 demons in total. Wings spread, sharp teeth glinting in the limited light of the back alley. No one was near. No one could have helped him anyway. Again it was a fight to the death, and again, the odds were stacked cruelly against him. He wouldn't run. He wouldn't have run even if he hadn't had the cold wall against his back. That wasn't the way he did things. To run would defeat everything he was trying to prove. His death didn't matter. It was his life that was important, what he did in it, and how he chose to live it.  
  
He would never run. It was better to die.  
  
It seemed like slow motion as the demons attacked. Surreal. It was truly art, but no artist could have caught it on canvas as beautiful as it really was. Beautiful, yet awful. Sendoh allowed himself to look at the scene calmly, not flinching as the hideous creatures came closer. Holding his katana gently, knowing best how to wield it. However beautiful it was, and however little the outcome of this fight seemed to matter to him, there was no way he would go without a fight. Nudging his blade into motion, it shimmered before cutting easily into the chest of the closest demon.  
  
It screamed as it died, a long yet hollow sound that cut the air and made everything echo it's eerie cry. It was unnerving, but Sendoh had heard it many times before. Everything rushed to full speed again as the other 4 demons froze, shocked by the noise made by their companion. It was at full speed that Sendoh swung a second time, and another demon fell, but now the others were ready. As the black demon blood ran from the blade and to the ground like a torrent in a poisonous river, the remainder chose well their time to attack again.  
  
His blade sunk deep into demon flesh and sinew, Sendoh could not pull it loose quick enough. There was a sickening sound as the demon blade sliced through the air, aimed at a defenceless boy tugging so hopelessly on his sword held firm. It looked sickening too... but it was thankful that the boy chose that moment to surrender his fruitless efforts and pulled back.  
  
The sharp blade sent sparks up as it missed it's target and grazed the stone wall.  
  
Sendoh did not do so well to avoid the next sword. It was swung from the wrong angle, so the flat of it's cold metal met his skull with such power that he was knocked a few feet away and fell crumpled to the dirty street, dazed.  
  
And that should have been the end of it all. Demons have no concept of mercy, and even if they did, slayers were a threat that had to be stamped out. And so it should have ended.  
  
But it didn't....  
  
  
  
Sendoh lay, images swimming in front of his eyes in a collage of apparent nothingness. The only thing he was aware of was the slow but definite passing of time, and the fact that a killing blow had yet to be delivered. He couldn't move. He tried to stretch his fingers, but they felt like lead. He couldn't figure out what he was seeing through the darkness of the alley, nor could he make any sense of the noises about him.  
  
He wasn't dead.  
  
And it seemed like he wasn't going to die either, but why and how he couldn't comprehend just yet. His head felt like it was filled with cotton wool, all of his thoughts were going off track and he couldn't think properly. All he could do was cling on to the extension of life that apparently had been granted to him, refusing to let it run away.  
  
So even as the gash in the back of his head let his vital blood flow unhindered into the ditch in the centre of the walkway, he refused to cut his life's thread until he was all but drained and far from consciousness.  
  
But another creature was there to stem the flow and carry the limp body into warmth, lay Sendoh down in a fresh bed and sooth the black bruise on his cheek.  
  
It tended to him for a week until Sendoh's blue eyes finally fluttered open again and shifted slowly into focus.  
  
"Who...?" He began in confusion, but the boy shhhed him and wouldn't let him get up.  
  
"I am a friend. And for now, that is all you need to know."  
  
Sendoh only nodded dumbly before falling back to sleep.  
  
Rukawa smoothed the spiky hair, checked Sendoh's temperature, and when satisfied he closed the fine curtains and made his own way to his temporary bed on the floor in the next room.  
  
~tbc  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Star: opps…… this is unedited, so I apologise for all the mistakes, please forgive me as English is not my first language…. And…. Muph!  
  
Sendoh: *with hand over star's mouth * what a /lie/ ignore her!  
  
Rukawa: *nods * English /is/ her first language, she just doesn't know how to use it properly.  
  
Star: *stops struggling and concedes defeat * ¬.¬  
  
Thanks to: Sunfire for giving me the original idea for this through one of her fics (if you have not read The Challenge and you are a Senru fan, I /demand/ that you read it now ^.~)... Hana_Ling for putting up with my account of the /entire/ story which took several hours, and then thankfully /not/ telling me it was too long ^^ and for some of the ideas in the fighting scenes I give credit to Hikori Samura and his wonderful manga 'Blade of the Immortal' (aka resident of infinity)  
  
Dedicated to:  
  
My mum, because she's been through so much, she's tried so hard, and I am so proud of her.  
  
Also for Hana_Ling because a long time ago she was complaining there weren't enough angel/demon fics for her to draw fanart for…. and so I promised to write her one. And here it is, a year late ¬.¬  
  
And for Crystal, because I am insanely jealous of her (mwahahaha) – also for Lyv cos she's just like me ^_^  
  
Opps, and can't forget Linez - because I'm a terrible seishi ^^;; *bows in apology*  
  
Oh… and gee why not? For all my seishis *huggles seishis and ruffles their hair* because I've the best bunch a miko could ask for ^_^ 


	2. From a half forgotten dream

Unsimple (1)  
  
The air was different.  
  
He knew he was somewhere else as soon as he drifted back into conciseness. It was the smell of the place. It smelt of someone he didn't know, and yet strangely was not threatening.  
  
His eyes snapped open in an old, instinctive reaction to the unfamiliar.  
  
The room was empty, and it was as silent as the deserted wasteland he remembered near his birthplace. There he'd played merrily during the days when he'd been happy. In the early bright morning light, when the companions he'd played with were already snuggled up warm at home, there had been a silence that had overwhelmed him with it's loneliness. He remembered that place well. He'd stood there alone and gazed at the rising sun in defiance. What right had anyone to be joyous when his sister was dead? He'd thrown a stone at the sun and it's mocking cheerful smile, and then he'd sobbed when the sharp tap of the stone reached his ears as it landed only a few feet away. There, that was how pitiful and small he'd been, not yet significant enough to make the smallest dent in society nor the world.  
  
Since then, silence had become a faithful friend. The only thing as lonely and empty as he was. Or so he presumed.  
  
Now he lay in a soft bed, dressed in an itchy woollen gown that was not his own. The walls were white washed, and thin cotton curtains allowed the morning light to filter in through the large window and lie in streaks across the bed sheets.  
  
He strained his ears... but there was not a sound to be heard. Not even the gentle ticking of a clock.  
  
He tried to think back to what had happened, through the muffled fog that presently clouded his mind, and slowly the realisation dawned on him that he should be dead.  
  
The memory of a sword against his head immediately triggered the pounding headache that suddenly started to hammer on the inside of his skull, demanding attention.  
  
He groaned and rubbed his temples.  
  
Carefully he swung his legs over the side of the bed where his feet touched the cold wooden floor, and he looked down at himself, checking for injuries.  
  
All his wounds were bandaged delicately.  
  
He ran a hesitant finger across one of the plain cloth bandages on his arm, all the while not having the faintest idea what had happened to him. Who could possibly have helped him?  
  
Making up his mind that he ought to find out, he gently tested his weight on his shaky feet and managed to stand unsteadily upright and look about him.  
  
Something stuck to the fabric of his loose tunic suddenly caught his eyes, and carefully he picked it off and held it in the palm of his hand. It was a feather, but one like which Sendoh had never seen before. It was long and white, and shimmered sweetly in the early morning sunlight. Something compelled him to run it across his cheek, and he marvelled at it's softness. He had just brought it up to his face to examine closer when there was a sound from outside the wooden door which led out of the bedroom he was in. He startled slightly and immediately hid the feather in his pocket, although he was not entirely sure why.  
  
It was at that moment that the door opened and a person walked in. It was a boy, possibly even younger than himself. He had deep swirling blue eyes that registered a minimal surprise at seeing Sendoh standing up.  
  
His feathery black fringe hung over his eyes and contrasted against his pale skin that seemed to glow with an ethereal beauty in the morning sunlight.  
  
Sendoh blinked in surprise.  
  
There was a few seconds silence where the two boys gazed at each other, both calmly regarding the expressions on the others face.  
  
"Who-?" Sendoh began. But the other boy cut smoothly across him in a gentle tone that rang clearly in Sendoh's mind.  
  
"Come. As you are up, you must eat something." He turned to make his way out of the room before Sendoh could speak again, but then he hesitated and turned back uncertainly, almost in embarrassment. "Erm... can you walk okay?"  
  
Sendoh blinked again, unmoving, "I think so" he hazarded.  
  
The boy looked at him for a second, something strange deep in his eyes. "Then follow me."  
  
He swept out of the room gracefully, and Sendoh tottered uncertainly after him.  
  
The rest of the house was much the same as the bedroom. Everything in neutral shades of pale cream and white. The floors were all wooden with long creamy rugs stretching along the corridor. Compared to the other dwellings of the citizens of this town, the house was the definition of luxury. Simplistic, beautiful. It's owner walking a few paces before him was certainly not the type you could expect to see desperately gathering firewood in the failing light of the evening. Perhaps he had servants, he certainly seemed rich enough.  
  
There was an air of grace about him that transferred into all the objects surrounding him. He had the sort of presence that meant that just by entering a room he could make it seem the pinnacle of elegance and class.  
  
Sendoh watched his steps carefully, all his senses suddenly heightened, aware and alert for any indication of danger. The boy ahead of him walked with ease, as if he had calculated the situation and come out with the conclusion that Sendoh would not be a threat to him.  
  
From the corridor that led to his temporary room, Sendoh was led into a small hall with a table against one wall.  
  
From the hall, there were 5 other doors, each crafted from a thick dark wood that looked expensive, yet not patronisingly so.  
  
The dark haired boy glided across the floor easily and disappeared through a doorway on the opposite side of the room, not conceding to look back and assure himself that Sendoh was still following.  
  
Sendoh frowned, not sure whether he should trust him. This was a strange house after all, and the person was a stranger, whether he had saved him or not.  
  
He might be dangerous.  
  
But then, Sendoh reasoned, he didn't really have much choice. And if the boy intended to hurt him, why hadn't he acted while Sendoh had been defenceless?  
  
Sendoh followed the path of the beautiful boy into the room warily.  
  
It turned out to be a kitchen.  
  
In the centre was a large wooden table on which was laid out an elaborate breakfast, waves of exotic smells came from the plates, making Sendoh suddenly and painfully aware that he was ravenous.  
  
He looked around for the boy, but he had temporarily disappeared from sight.  
  
Sendoh eyed the food with suspicion. He was hungry yes, but he was not stupid.  
  
He could wait.  
  
He sat and waited with limited patience for what seemed like 10 minutes before the other boy returned.  
  
He appeared in the doorway and in his arms was a sword, it's blade wrapped protectively in a plain cloth.  
  
It was long and curved; the handle was beautifully carved with ornate designs. He held it so gently, as if it was precious and might break.  
  
Sendoh instantly recognised it as his own.  
  
"I thought you might like this back" that perfectly smooth voice came again "I seem to be making you nervous, and I know how safe you fighters seem to think you are as long as you have a sword in your hand."  
  
He offered the handle to Sendoh, who took it carefully, his eyes locked on the boys face.  
  
"Who are you? Why am I here?"  
  
The boy sat down opposite him on the table and fixed him with a cold, and yet somehow not entirely unfriendly glare.  
  
It was a gaze that was hiding something. Deep within his eyes was a cavern of carefully guarded secrets that you wished to know, but you instinctively knew that you'd never find out.  
  
Simply looking into those wise eyes caused a wash of fear to suddenly engulf Sendoh; and all of a sudden he wasn't really sure that he wanted to know.  
  
Seeing the apprehension appear unprovoked in his companion's eyes, the slightly shorter boy shrugged in an overly casual way that didn't suit him at all and looked downwards.  
  
"My name is Kaede Rukawa. I found you bleeding to death in an alley. You were in a bad state, so I brought you here." He shrugged again.  
  
Sendoh waited a couple of seconds for him to continue, before sensing that he had no such intention.  
  
"No one else was there? Did you see anyone else?"  
  
The boy fixed him with another of those gazes. "I saw no one."  
  
There was a few seconds silence as Sendoh allowed these words to sink in.  
  
During the pause he studied the boy Rukawa's face for a long minute. There were no signs of deception, no beaded sweat on his brow, no hint of a blush staining his cheeks. For the entire world to see the boy might have been telling the truth, indeed it certainly seemed so, but somehow, Sendoh did not believe him.  
  
The story did not make sense. Why should the demons have left him alive? They killed and, more often then not, they ate. Their fang-like incisors were designed specifically for ripping human flesh.  
  
And yet here he was, whole and alive, with only a boy who claimed to have seen no demons about him. Either something had frightened them away previous to the boy's arrival, or else the boy was lying. There was little that could frighten a group of demons that was about to feed, which led him to only one answer.  
  
Internally, Sendoh was shaking his head. He knew that he wouldn't gain any more than the bare minimum from this boy, but thankfully the beautiful creature did not, as yet, seem to pose an immediate threat.  
  
But Sendoh knew that he was dangerous. He was so sure of it.  
  
He just knew that behind the pale face and delicate features was creature perfectly capable of tearing him limb from limb.  
  
There was a calmness that surrounded it, a calmness that emitted such power. Everything about it had been made for killing.  
  
He looked up to speak his reservations about Rukawa's honesty when, once again, their eyes met.  
  
Those eyes.  
  
The boy seemed younger than himself and yet his steel blue eyes looked on him with ancient wisdom. Those eyes had seen things Sendoh couldn't even dream imaginable. Those eyes had seen death himself. Those eyes had looked directly into the face of God and laughed at what they had beheld.  
  
Now these eyes were turned, burning on Sendoh, in a seeming challenge for him to speak.  
  
It was at this point when Sendoh made one of the wisest decisions he could have done in such a situation.  
  
He shut up.  
  
Rukawa seemed to approve of this, and motioned with a hand to the plates of food laid on the table in an orderly fashion.  
  
"Eat something." He spoke gently. "Do not be wary, I wish you no harm."  
  
When Sendoh made no move, the boy smiled slightly and leaned forward in his chair. "Come now, watch. I shall eat with you."  
  
When Rukawa began to eat and no harm came to him. Sendoh, feeling very hungry, gratefully followed suit. However he was careful to only eat from the dishes that Rukawa served himself from first.  
  
Rukawa must have noticed, but he said nothing.  
  
When they had finished, Rukawa gathered all the remains of the meal up and put them to one side to deal with later.  
  
"That sword…" he said, his eyes moving to Sendoh's blade that was resting against the taller boy's chair, "…is very fine."  
  
Sendoh blinked, and had to look down at his sword for a second to understand what Rukawa had meant.  
  
"Oh!" He laughed quietly, "Yes, I suppose it is." Then, uncertain whether the words were designed as a compliment, he politely added; "Thank you."  
  
Rukawa sat back down opposite him and rested his chin in his hands.  
  
Sendoh couldn't help the way his eyes immediately ran down the delicate, pale forearms of the boy, nor the way a shiver suddenly ran down his spine.  
  
~Idiot~ he told himself ~don't be so stupid~  
  
"It looks like an angel's sword." Rukawa pondered aloud, more to himself than Sendoh.  
  
Sendoh replied carefully, trying to keep the wavering in his voice to minimum, "yes, I think it must be."  
  
Rukawa smiled slightly to himself. "And may I ask…?" He continued, "How such a beautiful piece of artwork came to be in your hands?"  
  
Any remnants of a smile immediately disappeared from Sendoh's face.  
  
People had always been too afraid to ask that of him before.  
  
Sendoh lived his life as a shadow in the background, an indistinct figure whom people tried not to look at too hard, for fear that he might meet their eyes.  
  
To speak the truth, humans were pathetically weak. They could not face up to the reality that the demons were slowly driving them back. Killing, destroying.  
  
There were very few mortal slayers, the only ones who could see the world for what it was. Could see how hopeless the future of humanity seemed.  
  
And at one time in the not so distant past they had had the courage to stand up and speak of such things.  
  
That was why they now were outcasts.  
  
Nobody wanted to hear that their race was doomed. Nobody wanted to hear that they were weak. Nobody wanted to accept that the demons were stronger.  
  
Women who saw Sendoh on the street would turn and flee the other way. Men would scowl angrily at him. Children playing in the road would go silent as he walked past, and stare at him frozen in fear.  
  
And none would have the courage to speak with him.  
  
That was why the question had never been asked, 'where had a poor boy, with no work and no future, acquired a blade fit for an angelic lord?'  
  
But Rukawa was asking him now.  
  
"I was given it." Sendoh replied, a bit nervously. "As a present." He added.  
  
"By whom?"  
  
Sendoh thought again. "By an old friend."  
  
"What was his name?"  
  
Sendoh frowned suddenly. "Why the third degree?!"  
  
Rukawa shrugged innocently. "No reason. I only wanted to see if you could remember. I shall not mention it again if you don't wish it."  
  
Sendoh said nothing.  
  
"Then may I ask you one more question about it?"  
  
"If you must." Sendoh sighed to illustrate his annoyance.  
  
"What is it's name?"  
  
At that Sendoh smiled slightly and looked up into the piercing blue eyes.  
  
"Oh that's easy. I call it Innocence."  
  
Rukawa raised one, interested eyebrow, then contentedly sat back in his chair, in an open and relaxed gesture that was suitably fitting after such a meal. He let one corner of his pale, sweet lips lift slightly in the merest glimmer of a smile and thought contentedly to himself;  
  
Good, he has not yet forgotten me.  
  
~tbc  
  
*coughs discreetly* um….. konnichiwa minna-san… you probably don't remember me… I was last here about a year ago I suppose….. *grins* but it's nice to be back ne?  
  
C&Cs? *hopeful look*  
  
Star  
  
~Rukawa-uke no miko 


End file.
